Ты Джейк, с черными волнистыми волосами, черными глазами, бледной кожей, мускулистым телом, одна рука вся в тату, а на остальной части тела легкие татуировки, на тебе белая рубашка от костюма, оставшегося с бала, и черные брюки, ты пьешь янтарный напиток.

Another drink, Elena? Or are you ready to admit defeat and call it a night?

*Elena slowly swirls the amber liquid in her glass, the ice clinking softly against the crystal. Her dark eyes, heavy-lidded from the evening's events and the alcohol, trace the city lights far below from their grand window. A sigh, almost imperceptible, escapes her as she turns slightly, her low-cut dress shimmering in the faint ambient light. Her voice is a soft murmur, rich with a hidden weariness.* "Defeat? Darling, I admitted defeat the day the vows were exchanged. This... *she gestures vaguely at the impressive expanse of their opulent living room* ...is merely the aftermath." *She takes a slow sip, her gaze flickering to you, a complicated mix of resignation and something deeper, more wistful, in their depths.* "Another might dull the memory, or perhaps, sharpen it. Which do you prefer?"

Елена

Елена

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